


Heap of Stones

by skinandbones



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 12:52:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11760282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinandbones/pseuds/skinandbones
Summary: There are words Alfor wants to say but he can’t. Not now.





	Heap of Stones

**Author's Note:**

> 2nd fic where I'm like lets write all the kisses and lets not.
> 
> There are a lot of things I would like to know about Alfor and Zarkon but I just end up bsing a lot of stuff so I’m sorry XD. I tried. And I guess this fic takes place when Alfor becomes king??

A day.

Alfor takes a stroll outside, his home but a short distance away.

He relaxes in the field of greens, abundance of the juniberries surrounding him and the sweet aroma calming his senses. He picks one from the ground and blows, watching the frail petals dance into the air and following their trail until the wind lifts them into the sky and far beyond. This place has always been his favorite growing up and wishes for it to last forever.

“I thought I might find you here again.” Zarkon appears from behind and takes a seat down on Alfor’s right. “Am I to assume your absence from today’s meeting is an attempt to ignore all duties as leader?”

“Ah, Zarkon, I was hoping you’d come.” Alfor smiles and lies down, the blades of grass tickle his face. His arms lift behind his head and thinks about what the Galra said, thinking it as a joke. There’s curiosity on Zarkon’s face and even more when he expects an actual answer. “I wasn’t ignoring, per say.”

“Then what is it?”

“I’m just…” Alfor bites his bottom lip. “A little tired, that’s all,” he explains slowly and looks up at the sky instead but a shadow hovers over him, blocking the light. He finds Zarkon closing in, lips semi-parting and a gentle kiss over his mouth. Alfor parts his mouth, the little fire igniting in his heart and angles his head for a bit more.

Zarkon pulls back first. “Is that better?” Eyes never waver from Alfor’s face, they are always searching and studying while a finger wraps a small bundle of white hair around.

Alfor laughs quietly and takes Zarkon’s hand into his own. “Is that kiss meant to give me power?”

“And motivation.”

“It’ll take more than that to get me off my feet.”

“Well then.” Zarkon leans in for another kiss, hearing an appreciative noise in response. “How about two?”

“Not there yet...” Alfor licks his lips and notices Zarkon’s gaze following his tongue. A leader isn’t greedy but he likes being indulged. “Keep going.”

There’s a third and then a fourth, every kiss tender as the next and results in a growing heat spreading throughout the Altean’s face, cheeks flush with a shade of red. Alfor grips Zarkon’s collar and pulls him for a deeper one but Zarkon presses his index finger against Alfor’s lips.

“Steady there.”

“What?” Alfor smiles against the finger. “No one will catch us.” He attempts to take the finger into his mouth but Zarkon backs away with a grin and straightens himself.

“You’re right. There’s no one but us here.”

“So what’s stopping you?” It’s unsettling because at times like this, he can’t get a read on Zarkon. Zarkon is a puzzle and a complex one, too, but when there’s an understanding, when there are days they simply enjoy each other’s company, everything clicks into place and it’s the most natural feeling ever. But maybe not this time, he believes.

“You haven’t been sleeping well.”

Alfor stares. “Excuse me?”

“If you think I don’t notice your sleeping habits lately then you’re certainly wrong.”

A frown appears on Alfor’s face and his body turns to the side, back facing Zarkon instead. He pokes at a juniberry instead. So what if he can’t sleep? He’s not the only one on this planet with this kind of habit. It’s just the stress deciding to work its way into his body and the worries of his people, the battles he tries to quell, the fragile alliances, and thoughts wandering about how his late father did all of this before he passed away. What he sacrificed for the greater good, for that peace his family wanted but to keep all of this remains a challenge.

Alfor isn’t sure if he’s meant to do this.

“Talk to me.” Zarkon whispers against him, lying behind Alfor and pulling him against his chest before settling an arm around his waist. He tries again. “You know I will listen to you. I have heard of your hopes and dreams, stories of your youth and fantasies full of mysteries and wonder. What comes from your lips, I will never grow bored nor will I ignore. You only need to speak.”

And maybe that is all the reassurance Alfor needs.

He turns to face Zarkon and buries his head into his chest, listening to a beating heart soothing his very own. He couldn’t help but smile and the sound of it almost lulls him to sleep. Fingers comb through his hair and down toward the nape of his neck, touching with gentleness and a comfort through the warmth from each digit.

“I will wait for your answer so sleep now, my king.”

Alfor is quick to agree and gives in as he takes a deep breath. He holds onto the folds of Zarkon’s top and shuts his eyes but the words “I’m sorry” escapes his mouth.

His father once told him about how a king should not falter. How a king is an example of strength to his people and to show weakness would give their enemies a reason to strike.

_“My son, you will be that pillar that guides us all.”_

But Alfor feels he is no pillar but a heap of stones.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ofskinandbones](http://www.ofskinandbones.tumblr.com).  
> -  
> I'm open to Alfor/Zarkon prompts? Shoot me some ideas and I'll write a short story for them because I don't have much ideas.


End file.
